Take It Easy
by Rebellwithoutacause
Summary: When things heat beyond a boiling point between Eric and Ryan, our OCD CSI decides to go on a trip. On the way, he runs into a few problems, and a girl who might change his whole outlook on life. NOT RyanOC R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

_**Ok, not as fast as I promised, but whatever, still soon. This fic is going to be a little bit more humerous than my previous two, and its supposed to be. It may not seem like it at first, but just stick around. I named it after the Eagle's song "Take it Easy" even though the lyrics below are from a Kelly Clarkson song. You'll see why within the chapter. Anyways, I'll shut up now and present to you Take It Easy. **_

_If you don't have the answer  
Walk away  
Just walk (walk) away  
(Just walk away)  
Then just leave  
Yeah yeah  
Walk away  
Walk away  
Walk away_

"Mr. Wolfe."

Horatio's voice was soft, but stiff and firm, as it usually was when Ryan was spoken to by him. The sound of his name rubbed against Ryan's skin like sand paper. He'd been with this team for a while now, why couldn't they call him by his first name? No one did, no one except Alexx, and Ryan wasn't all that sure he could come near her with a ten foot pole now.

Ryan made no movement except to swing his legs over the Hummer's seat and lift his head to somewhat gaze at Horatio. If he wouldn't give him the respect to look at him straight, then Ryan would do the same. He was tired of being the scape goat for the things that went wrong. It wasn't so much from Horatio directly, but the tension that erupted when he came around anybody else on the team was easy to feel.

"I've spoken with Eric…" Ryan cut him off.

"The only thing I want to hear from him is an apology, an apology from him, not you." Ryan growled.

Horatio nodded and he tilted his head to the side slightly. "I understand, Mr. Wolfe. What Eric did could easily get him dismissed from the lab. He knows that. Let him deal with his own conscious as punishment. Make none of your own for him. He doesn't need that, and there's no need for you to sink that low."

Ryan rolled up his sleeve and took a glance at the scrape he had on his outer arm from where Eric shoved him into the concrete. He sighed and shrugged. It stung, but it didn't matter.

"Mr. Wolfe, I have an idea that may solve some of this conflict that has been going on ever since you joined the lab."

"Oh, really, what's that? Fire me, or Eric?" Ryan spat his statement with contempt.

"No, but I, and everyone else I think, agrees with the fact you two need to be separated for a while. There is a conference in Arizona starting tomorrow. We can have you flown out there for the weekend to be a participant, or just a listener, and when you return, hopefully some of this will have cleared up."

Ryan rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to hiss in an animal like way. "So, basically, you're going to find out if kicking me out would be worth it by shipping me off for a few days and leaving Eric here? Great, thanks," he snapped.

"That's not what I'm doing at all. What I'm saying is maybe you should look into it. Consider it as a paid vacation," Horatio said quietly before slipping on his shades and walking away.

Ryan sat for a long while in his Hummer, not having the will to move. His anger hadn't disappeared, but it left him with this hollow, sick feeling inside that seemed to weigh the equivalent of the world on his shoulders.

Footsteps on gravel alerted Ryan someone was coming. A glance in his mirror told him who. Calleigh.

"Hey, I heard what happened," she stated quietly.

"Who told you?" Ryan asked, his voice low.

"Alexx. Said you and Eric were having a brawl. What happened?"

"I told him basically to straighten up his act and he unloaded on me."

"Well, there was your first mistake. Never tell Delko he's wrong, unless your Horatio, or he'll unload on anybody." Calleigh said this with light laughter that made Ryan look up, but not smile.

"Still, I hope he took that bite seriously, for what its worth," Ryan muttered.

"You bit him!" Calleigh cried in disbelief. "You bit him?"

"Yes, I bit him. He had me pinned down, what else was I supposed to do?" But the humor of the situation did crack a smile on his face, finally.

There was a brief, but not uncomfortable pause before Calleigh spoke again.

"I heard about the conference in Arizona. Are you going to go?"

"I don't really want to, but what choice do I have? Horatio didn't leave me much room to maneuver here."

"He has a funny way of making you see things his way, without being threatening. At least to us, Stetler is a different matter all together," Calleigh muttered. She shook her head and continued. "So, _are _you going to go?"

"What's the conference on?"

"The blending of traditional detective work and forensics. Because apparently several of the more rural police stations are complaining they have lack of funding because its being given all to places like our lab."

"Why in Arizona though?" Ryan asked with a small laugh.

"I don't know!" Calleigh cried, throwing up her hands. "Your guess is good as mine."

Ryan chuckled softly and shook his head. But then his demeanor grew serious. "If you were in my shoes, would you go?"

Calleigh's eyes took on a devious sense of humor. "Paid vacation, in the middle of nowhere so I won't be bothered, spa, gym, good food, and all the scenery you need. You think I'd pass that up?"

Ryan laughed. "Thanks, Calleigh." He said smiling.

"Always here to help." she said with a firm nod before almost prancing off.

Ryan sighed and took a glance at the setting Miami sun.

"Well, if you put it that way…" he told himself as he shut the Hummer door and started the car up.

When Ryan reached his apartment he was happy to realize that he'd gone through his usual OCD routine that morning and straightened everything up. That way, when he came home, he didn't have to worry about it. Sometimes, if say, he woke up late, he didn't have time, and he never felt comfortable until he reached home and was able to satisfy his OCD urges.

Not the case today though, so as he hung up his outer jacket and walked to the kitchen, the apartment was spotless. Nodding his head in approval, he picked up the phone and dialed Horatio's number.

"Mr. Wolfe?" was the soft answer.

"Yeah, Horatio. I'll take you up on that offer."

"As a participant, or as a listener?"

"I don't have time to prepare anything, and I'm not expected to show up anyways, so I'll go and listen and give a report to hand in if you want."

"Offering to do homework? Calleigh must really have gotten to you. Alright, I'll have the department make the arrangements and send you an e-mail with your flight information."

They both hung up and Ryan gave a sigh and a nod to himself. How bad could a weekend trip to Arizona be? He shrugged and started to make himself dinner.

Supper eaten, he started to move around his apartment, packing anything and everything he thought he needed. And, in true OCD manner, he unpacked it all and rearranged it ever so carefully. It gave him ways to occupy his time.

After his second rendition of taking everything out of his bag and putting it back in, he clicked the remote to his sound system/radio. A little music might help quiet down his OCD urges and so when he repacked his bag this time around, he'd be satisfied.

What came on from the radio was Kelly Clarkson's "Walk Away." He'd heard the song a few times, enough to know the basic tune and rhythm. He smiled in the irony of it all and continued to pack.

It was around ten when Ryan sat down and pulled open his lap top. He quickly clicked to his e-mail and found his flight information. His eyes went wide.

"What do you mean, the flight is at five AM!" he said in disbelief. He reread it again and again. It didn't change. That meant _being _at the airport at three AM! Because of 9/11, now you had to be at your gate two hours early.

"What?" Ryan asked himself in shock. Then he sighed and clicked of the radio that had been continually playing different music since he'd turned it on. He shook his head and dared himself to look at the clock. Ten fifteen, said the digital red numbers.

"That means I get three and a half hours of sleep," he muttered.

He undressed and slipped into bed and set his alarm, making himself silent promise that he would never _ever _let department pick his travel plans.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Soooooooo sorry I didn't have this up sooner, my internet was down for three days! I know, I nearly died too, nah, just kidding. Anyways, hope this keeps you guys happy for a while, because I had typed chapter three, but then lost it when the net died. sniffles I'll re-type ASAP I promise. Thank you to all those who reviewed, added to alerts and favorites! It means a lot to me, seriously. But, I'll shut up now so you can actually read the story...**  
_

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"Ugh, shut up already!"

Ryan groaned and stretched out his hand, trying to find the god awful device needed to wake him up at two thirty AM. He had to allot himself more time than a normal person because he never knew if he'd be able to reign in his more compulsive urges. But at this moment, Ryan's concern was shutting up his alarm clock.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"Alright, I'm up, I'm up, I swear!" he moaned and sat up out of his nice and warm, oh so inviting bed. Rubbing his eyes he found the lamp and switched it on.

His still beeping alarm clock had fallen on the floor the first time he'd reached for it. Sighing heavily, he bent down, picked it up, and shut it off.

He stood up and felt the blood rush throughout his body. Staggering briefly, he stretched and maneuvered his way around the room to the clothes he'd previously laid out. As soon as he was dressed, his OCD started up, and he went back and made his bed, smoothing out all the wrinkles. Fortunately he did it so many times over the course of his life, it didn't take him but a minute or two.

With his bed made, he looked around for his bag. He smiled when he saw it lying nice and neat by his door. The only carry on he was taking was his lap top and a set of plug in head phones, tucked within the portable computer's bag. He didn't know if he'd actually stay awake through the flight or not, but he wanted something to do if he was.

He picked up both bags, one in his hand, one a roll around suitcase, and proceeded to put them by his front door. Once stacked neatly, he went back to his kitchen and meticulously began to make himself a cup of coffee. Normally he didn't need to, but normally he didn't have to get up at two thirty in the morning either.

He stood leaning on the counter waiting for the coffee to finish when the phone rang. At first he ignored it. Who the hell would be calling him at this time of night? But after a while, the high pitched ringing was too annoying for him to ignore, kinda like his alarm clock. So he snatched it up and answered.

"Wolfe," he muttered with a yawn.

"Glad to see your up."

"Calleigh, why are you calling me this early?" was his first question.

"Because, I wanted to make sure you didn't miss your plane. I heard it was at five AM."

"If that was a joke on the behalf of the department, I'll make sure they get way worse," Ryan promised, laughing as he did so.

"Nope, that was Alexx's doing. She recommended you get the earliest flight possible."

Ryan laughed both ruefully and ironically. He shook his head and sighed in an almost contented way into the phone.

"Call me when she gets Eric back, K?" he asked. "I want to know what she's going to put him through."

Calleigh laughed. "Don't worry, she's already promised, next bloater's his."

Ryan smiled. "Alright, thanks, and send Eric my regards when he gets that body if I'm not there. I'll talk to you later, Calleigh."

Ryan hung up the phone and set it back onto its cradle. A minute more passed and the coffee was ready. Pouring it into a thermos and securing it tightly, he made sure he had his daily stuff on him, such as his gun, badge, phone, and all of his keys. Satisfied, he did yet one more run through of his apartment, making sure everything was in its place, and spotless. Approving to himself that it was, he picked up his bags and headed out the door.

By the time Ryan had gotten through all the hassle of airport security and was sitting at his gate, it was three fifteen. The darkness outside of the windows was illuminated by flickering lights of runways and other buildings. He watched the hazy orange lamp light with a dimness of consciousness. The coffee wasn't having the affect he'd hoped on his system.

He set it down on the floor between his feet and leaned his head back and closed his eyes, wishing the sounds of the airport would be silent. Even at this hour, the business seemed like a whirlwind.

Reluctantly he picked his head up and opened his eyes. Maybe moving around would wake him up a little more. With his carry on over his shoulder, he started to roam around the gate, happy to feel a little more energy shoot into his limbs.

He was walking by the window when he saw a girl sitting on the floor, her back against the concrete pillar, head turned looking out the glass. Ryan thought that was odd. At this hour, there were plenty of chairs and more comfortable places to sit. Yet she was on the floor, knees up to her chest, a royal blue backpack beside her, and a notebook on her upraised knees. Her appearance didn't tell Ryan much about where she'd come from. Short cropped hair was brown with blond streaks with fluffy bangs in front and a ruffled mess in the back. Most of her deep bronze skin was hidden by a loose black T-shirt and less than designer jeans. She didn't have heels on either, only black and silver sneakers. There also was no jewelry on her either, just a digital watch. She seemed absorbed in her writing, her pen flying across the surface of her notebook.

Ryan must have stood there in front of her watching for at least five minutes before she even looked up.

"You need something?" she asked nonchalantly. Her brown eyes smiled with humor and good natured sparkle.

"No, just wondering what you're doing down there. There's plenty of chairs you know," he said, tilting his head back towards the empty seats.

"Oh, that. I like it down here. I get a better view of the outside." She smiled innocently at him and held out her hand, finally setting her pen and notebook down. "Erin Prince," she said with a nod.

"Ryan Wolfe," he said tentatively, shaking her hand and darting his eyes back and forth.

"What brings you to the airport at three in the morning?" she asked, not bothering to stand up.

"I have a flight to catch to Arizona," he said. He honestly couldn't bring himself to use the word he wanted to for a description of her, but if he had to, it would be at first meeting… odd. "How about you?"

"Arizona, as it would so happen," she said with a smile. "That's where my luggage is going anyway. It'll be there waiting for me when I get there. But my ticket isn't until seven o clock."

Ryan's eyes went wide.

"I'll kill Alexx when I get back!" he cursed to himself, or what he thought was to himself.

"Man, what's your problem? You're here aren't you, and to me, you look awake. Chill out." Her statement was given as she picked up her pen and started writing in a business like manner once more.

"Its just, argh, never mind, you wouldn't get it. Inside issue." He sighed and pushed his hand through his somewhat messed up hair. He walked off from her and left her to stare at his retreating back.

Erin just shrugged and smiled.

Flying had never been something Ryan was comfortable with. To put it lightly, his life was in the hands of someone else. Someone he didn't know, hadn't seen the face of before, didn't even know their name. Didn't exactly make him feel reassured, but he gritted his teeth and told himself the question 'how bad could it be?' as he boarded the plane.

That, and the entirety of the disorganization around him, made him cringe. As he found his seat on the plane, he did his absolute best to ignore the hurrying and scurrying and flurry of activity around him. He buckled himself up, put his carry on between his feet and leaned his head against the wall of the plane, and decided to try and sleep.

Lift off of the plane made his stomach lurch. Thankful he hadn't eaten much that morning, he watched out the window as the ground disappeared from beneath their feet. As they continued to climb towards the sky, roads, trees, and cars shrank to the size of words on a page.

Turning his head, he took a glance at the other passengers on the plane. He had to grin when he saw that they were just as uncomfortable as he was. Satisfied for the present, he shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

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The actual flying turned out to be the least hazardous part of the trip. When the captain's voice came on to tell them they were approaching the Arizona airport, Ryan's heart leapt. Finally! He could get off this thing and stretch his sore legs. He hated sitting still for a long time, always had and probably always would.

But after circling for at least ten minutes, the captain's voice came on.

"We're sorry for the inconvenience, but the tower has denied us permission to land at this time, due to conditions of the runway. We'll continue circling until the problem is resolved, thank you for your cooperation."

"Yeah, cooperation given because we're in a plane and there isn't another option," Ryan growled. He took a glance out the window at the stiller than death runway and the fog accumulating. He wondered if that would delay them even further. Shrugging, he leaned his head back and decided he'd wait it out silently.

Twenty minutes later, they were still circling. The motion of the plane was starting to make Ryan's head spin, and he wondered if his body would be permanently bent because of the position they'd been stuck in for at least half an hour. His patience was worn down next to nothing. It was seven o clock now, the conference started at eight. He still had to get checked into his hotel, settle his bags down, and hopefully wrench his OCD under control so he didn't try to clean the room before he left for the conference.

At last the captain's voice came on, telling them they had been granted permission to land. A shoot of annoyance throbbed Ryan's head. _Finally, _he growled within his mind.

As they descended from the sky, Ryan felt his stomach jerk as turbulence hit the plane. Now frightened, his hands gripped the sides of his seat till his knuckles were white, and he tried not to think of all the fiery explosions caused by planes landing wrong.

When the wheels hit the runway, his eyes jerked open and he breathed a sigh of relief. By no means was he calmed down, but the worst, he hoped, was over.

And as it would turn out, the worst was over. The plane rolled to a stop and then taxied to the terminal. Everybody started filing out of the plane, all of them somewhat grumbling. Ryan smiled at the irony of it all and collected his carry on. Shuffling with the line, he was very, very happy to be out of the airplane and walking down the sloped terminal heading for the baggage claim.

After watching luggage from about a hundred different people, Ryan finally spotted his own. He leaned over and seized it, carefully hauling it up over people's head's doing his best not to hit anybody with it. When he'd secured it to the ground, he was about to turn away when he saw another black and royal blue suitcase roll around. There were initials on the side. E.P they said.

He thought back to the girl he'd met this morning. Erin Prince. He wondered if that bag was hers. He took a glance at all the people around him, looking to see if she was there. Then he remembered…

"_Arizona. That's where my luggage is anyways, it'll be there waiting for me when I get there."_

So, she wouldn't be here. He wondered if maybe he should go ahead and collect it so nobody would take it. He knew in Miami if you left something lying there, it was fair game. Was it the same here? He shrugged and shook his head. He didn't have time to wait, and besides, it'd go back into the holding area they used for luggage not claimed or lost. It'd be fine there.

He headed towards the exit of the airport and towards the pick up station for those like him going to the hotel. He checked his watch. When he saw the time, he had to laugh. He'd forgotten Arizona was two hours behind Florida, which meant it was eight o clock there and only six here.

In a fairly short space of time, the bus came for him and the other twenty or so people waiting. As they all clambered on, Ryan sat himself by a window and leaned his head against it. The sun was just starting to rise, and even though he couldn't see the great fireball because he was on the wrong side of the country, he could still see its glorious effects across the flat, building lined Arizona horizon.

The light doused the area, pink fingers stretching all across the once blank canvass, reaching for what Ryan couldn't guess. Golden splashes threw themselves onto the brightening horizon. The once onyx black sky now fingers of pink, splotches of gold, and streaks of blue and white all blending together to make one of the prettiest sunrises Ryan had ever seen. He smiled and chuckled softly. He couldn't even see the sun rise up over the edge of the earth.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Ok, I admit it. I totally haven't updated this one in forever. Please please PLEASE forgive me. Everything has been NUTS in my life lately, and about to get nuttier. Lol. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me and drop me a review, even if its not a pleasent one. I'm probably a little rusty on this fic, so I'll try and get it back together again ASAP. And if the grammer is bad on this fic, its because for some reason during the upload, it got all screwed up, so I had to fix it on the go. Hopefully the issue will be resolved. Thanks to any and all who read this! _**

When the bus rolled to a stop, Ryan stood and stretched himself before grabbing his bags and waiting for everybody else in front to shuffle off. He was impatient because he was stuck in between people and not able to move. When he finally was able to step down from the bus, he followed the herd of people towards the hotel.

When he walked through the doors, he was hit with a massive blast of cold air from the air conditioning. He felt a shudder roll down his spine as he adjusted. Noting where everybody else was going, he headed in that direction; towards the front desk.

"Hi, can I help you?" an already tired receptionist asked in a falsely sweet voice.

"Yeah, my name is Ryan Wolfe, I'm supposed to check in here," he said, feeling like an idiot because he basically knew as much about traveling as a criminal did about DNA.

"Ok, let me pull up your name, see if your room is registered and available," she said and beginning clicking away at the keys of the computer.

Ryan leaned on the wooden counter and looked around him while he was waiting. The herd of experienced business people were milling around near the elevator, waiting, some not so patiently, for it to come down. Just as the elevator came down and the doors open, two men were struggling and fighting to get in before they had to wait on the next one. When Ryan saw a fist fly, he hurriedly excused himself from the receptionist, and pulled back his jacket as he jogged towards the two men, not even bothering with the elevator anymore. He flashed his badge and called out angrily; "Hey, hey, hey! Break it up!"

He shoved himself in between the two men and kept them at an arm's length distance.

"Now, gentlemen take it outside!" Ryan growled as he slowly let them go.

"Wait, you're not going to tell us to quit?" the one on his left asked. "What kind of cop are you?"

Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but a fist flew, and hit him square in the jaw. He almost fell back but nevertheless, released both men and clutched what felt like his broken jaw.

"Damn, Jeeze, I was only trying to help!" Ryan snarled after he took his hands away.

"You're lucky I didn't knock your teeth out. Now beat it!"

"Hey! I'm a freaking cop, from Miami or not, you're lucky I don't file assault charges on your ass!" Ryan called out angrily as he walked away. Shame burned his neck as he felt his flush rising. Not the first time he'd backed down from a fight. His uncle would have been ashamed of him, and he was disappointed in himself.

He walked back to the receptionist who was still clicking away at the keys. Ryan cocked his head at her and gave a look that said 'don't f with me right now; I just had my jaw knocked into next Thursday.'

She seemed to register the look. She probably did get a lot of them from angry or annoyed business travelers.

"Ok, Mr. Wolfe, we've got your information. Room 518 and here's your key card," she said, passing it to him.

"Thanks," he growled before snatching up the card and stalking away.

The elevator had just finished taking people up, so Ryan was standing there waiting for his with his bags. All of a sudden, he felt a soft vibration in his pocket.

He reached inside the pocket of his pants and pulled out his cell phone. He didn't even check the caller ID, he just answered.

"Wolfe here," he muttered, feeling the pain from his jaw spread to his cheek bone.

"Hey, Ryan. Wait a minute, what's up?"

Ryan sighed. "Oh nothing, Calleigh. I just got my face smashed in by a pissed of business traveler. How's your morning?"

"Jeeze, what did you do to make the locals mad at you already?" she asked, laughing, trying to work through his anger.

"Broke up a fight. Badged him, but he decided to be a smart ass and hit me anyways."

"You're not filing charges are you?" Calleigh asked, a slight tone of nervousness in her voice.

"No, I'm not. It's not worth it." He could hear an audible sigh of relief.

"Has that body popped up yet?" Ryan asked, wondering if Eric was in as much discomfort as he was.

"Nope, not yet, but when it does, Alexx shall supervise him. Don't worry, Ryan." Calleigh laughed.

"Ok, listen, I gotta get my room organized and everything, I'll call you later," he told her.

They hung up and the elevator picked Ryan up. It took him up to the fifth floor and he then walked quickly to his room, wondering if the guy who'd punched him earlier was still lurking around.

As he let himself in, he shivered. The air conditioner was cranked down to almost sixty. He set his bags down near one of the beds and flicked the air off. Flopping down one of the beds, Ryan wondered if it was worth his energy to unpack or just to live out of his suitcase for the what, two days, he'd be here.

But his OCD urges won out. He unzipped his bag and began to lay everything out and then rearrange it in the drawers. He had time, he didn't have to be at the conference building till eight.

After the second rendition of it being rearranged, Ryan was satisfied. He then cleaned his gun and polished up his badge. An old, almost sentimental habit of his, especially since he'd become a CSI..

Ryan sighed as he thought of his OCD. He'd been teased unmercifully in school because of it. Instead of going outside to play with the other kids at recess, he'd spend his time cleaning the classroom. It wasn't that he wanted to, he couldn't help himself. His uncle couldn't afford the medication it would have taken to rein his OCD in at that age. He could still hear his uncle's voice inside his head after he came home crying for at least the tenth time when he was a kid.

"Stop your bawling, Ryan. So what you're not like them? Who's to say you should be? Personally I'm glad I've got you for a nephew, and not any of them for a son or daughter."

Ryan gave a small smile at the memory. As he'd gotten older, it had been easier to control his OCD, and he'd been able to get it under wraps for the most part. But there were times, when he was upset, stressed, depressed, or annoyed, he'd give it a free reign. The exhaustion of letting it control him was a good distraction from whatever was bothering him.

So, as he re-holstered his gun and re-clipped his badge, he felt a good deal better than he had when he'd come up to his room. Deciding he might as well get something to eat and his rental car sorted out, he headed out of his room, only after triple checking he'd taken everything he needed with him.

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An only somewhat stale bagel and watered down coffee made up Ryan's breakfast. He was sitting down at a table in the hotel's dining area when he saw the jerk that'd slammed him in the face early this morning. Ryan gave a satisfied grin when he saw the red bruising on the guy's knuckles.

But when their eyes locked, Ryan could still feel the malice in them. He let a hand rest on his gun, even as he turned his gaze away. The tension rose a few degrees even more and Ryan decided the room was only big enough for one of them.

Since he had somewhere to be anyways, and not wanting a black eye, he got up and left. He could hear a satisfied chuckle and he almost turned around again. But he wrenched a grip on himself at the last minute and kept walking.

The rental car place was less than a half block from the hotel, so Ryan headed up the street. Unlike in Miami, the streets weren't filled with people mimicking seagulls looking for a treat. There were a few people, mostly hurrying in the streets, heads down or straight ahead. Ryan shrugged and kept going.

When he stepped into the cool air condition, he saw someone at the counter he recognized, but couldn't place where. There were two guitar cases by her feet, for she was clearly a female with a nice curvy shape, but wearing jeans that rode on her waist, not on her hips, like almost all Miami girls. And she wore a plain black T-shirt, at least from the back. Ryan knew that if girls in Miami wore T-shirts, they had them twisted up so that at least some of their midriff showed. Not this girl. Was she a local from Arizona? He walked up behind her, waiting patiently, and then he saw the third bag by her feet. A royal blue and silver back pack and a roll a round suitcase with the initials E.P.

"Hey, stranger," he said quietly from behind her.

She spun around and flashed a smile. "Well, well, look who's here!" Erin laughed, tossing her fluffy bangs away from her eyes.

"I thought your plane wasn't until seven," Ryan quipped as the teller continued to click away at the keys of the computer.

"Oh, that, yeah, they put me on standby and a flight left fifteen minutes after yours. I was glad when I finally got here, I was worried about my babies," she gently nudged both guitar cases with her feet.

Ryan smiled with her but then the teller got her attention. Erin passed over a credit card, and after about thirty seconds, the card was passed back with a set of keys. "All set, Miss," was the short dismissal.

"Great, thanks a lot." Erin returned, and then reached down to try and collect her bags.

"Here, let me help you," and before Erin could protest, he scooped up her hard bound case and her back pack which he slung over his shoulder. She slipped her soft bound guitar case onto her back and grabbed her roll around.

"Thank you," she said as they headed out into the back parking lot where all the cars were.

"So, where are you going with all this stuff?" he asked as Erin browsed through the lots, looking for her car.

"Oh, I'm sort of a traveling musician.. More of a traveler than musician, but I'm never unprepared if there's a gig in the town I'm at."

"So, you're a performer?" he summarized.

"Yeah, I guess. But I prefer not to have a steady label. Cuts down on the ability of what I can do," she said with a shrug. She flipped her fluffy bangs away from her doe eyes and glanced around the parking lot.

"What car are you looking for?" he asked, feeling the weight of the guitar case in his hand begin to pull at his shoulder.

"Open air Jeep," she said. She saw it with a smile and headed towards it at the other end of the parking lot. Ryan wondered in the back of his mind how two guitar cases, one of them quite heavy, and her bags were going to fit.

As he followed her to the Jeep and she unlocked the door, she took the case from his hand. Very carefully, she laid it on the floor between the back seat and the front seat. She then shrugged her soft bound guitar off her back and laid it string side up on back seat.

"You must do this a lot," he said as she took her backpack from him and used it to further cushion the hard bound acoustic guitar.

As she hoisted her roll around into the back seat beside her electric she flicked her bangs again and shrugged. "All the time. I had to trade in my bike for cars though, if I wanted to take my music with me."

"So, how do you make money? Playing at shows?" he asked.

"Mostly." she answered. "My family has some money too."

"Must be nice," he answered with a slight heavy tone.

"Oh trust me, my family and I don't agree on my choices." she explained. She shrugged again and smiled.

"So, where you headed?" he questioned as she climbed into the driver's seat.

"Who knows? Who cares?" she said with a laugh. She fired up the engine and pulled a stylish pair of sunglasses out and slid them on over her face. "Thanks for the help Ryan. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe," he said with a cock of his head. He stepped back from the Jeep and watched as she pulled out of the parking lot. For some reason, a warm, happy feeling was bubbling up inside his chest as he watched her go.

_Now there's someone who knows what she wants in life._ he thought to himself as he headed back to the building.

He stepped back up to the counter and began the process of picking up his car. After a small hassle of making sure he was who he said he was, he was led out to the parking lot to a small Ford Focus. The lady handed him the keys and beat a hasty retreat, as if longing to be away from him. Ryan shrugged and let himself into the car.

Almost at once when he fired up the engine, he could feel something wasn't quite right with the car. The way the engine hummed louder and seemed to shiver as he put it in reverse to back out. He rolled his eyes and prayed that the car wouldn't die on him while he was here.

Needless to say, he had to drive quite a while before he found the building he was looking for. The city was laid out in a confusing manner with twists and turns and roundabouts that made him rather agitated by the time be pulled into the parking lot. Killing the motor for the Focus, he got out and headed into the building.

The air conditioning was very welcoming as the sun had already started to grow warm on his back while walking across the parking lot. This was clearly an office building that was being used for this conference, and he saw many of his own people, CSIs, roaming around the lobby, waiting for lectures to start, or checking their notes for their presentations. He half wished Calleigh was here with him, she was excellent about knowing where to go and what to do in these kinds of things.

Deciding at least on that he needed to find out what lecture he should go to first, and what time it started, he walked up to the front desk. On it someone had laid schedules out. He was pleased at the neat organization and he couldn't help but notice his OCD felt approval. All the stacks of papers were the same height, and not one was out of place. Careful not to disturb the neatness, he picked up one of the papers and glanced over it quickly.

There was a lecture on ballistics starting at 8:15 and a lecture on Trace evidence at 8:30. Trace was his specialty, but he'd always wanted another perspective on it. There was another lecture at 2:00 on victimology and one at 3:00 on criminal profiling. He knew immediately he wanted to do both of those. The rest he did not find particularly interesting. He decided he might check out the fingerprinting expert at 1:00 if he couldn't find another way to occupy his time.

As he started to look for the conference room that the Trace lecture would be given in, he wished he would have brought a pen and paper with him. Notes were always good, and usually needed in this kind of work. The idea that he hadn't remembered that irritated him slightly. As he walked into the room, fifteen minutes early, he saw with relief there was a large stack of notebooks and pens laid out on a table pressed against the back wall. He quickly picked one up and took a pen before going to find a seat on the edge of the isle up near the front.

His mind began to wander as he waited for the lecture to start. His thoughts seemed to settle on Erin for some reason, the way she seemed to have this air of optimism around her. It was puzzling to him for some reason. He had never been an optimist, and he had never really understood people who were. Yet they had always intrigued him. He remember his first serious girlfriend in high school had been an optimist. Yet optimism did not mix with OCD, sadly.

He watched as more people filed into the room, taking seats, pulling out notebooks and writing utensils and stowing away PDA's and cell phones. It reminded him to put his phone on silent. Making a mental note to check it when the lecture ended, he cut the ringer and vibrator off before putting it back in his pocket. Once most people had finished taking seats, or at least what looked like anybody who was going to stick around for the lecture had fallen silent, Ryan watched as a man in his later forties came to stand behind the podium.

"Thank you all for attending. The lecture I want to give is not just about Trace evidence, or different methods of detecting it, or collecting and analyzing it, but how Trace can be used in previously unknown ways."

Ryan's brain became totally focus on the lecturer, as his mind usually was when he was about to be given new information. He flipped open his notebook, and in neat, quick writing began hurrying across the page with his pen taking notes.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

When the lecture let out at 9:15 Ryan felt considerably more informed than he had earlier. It was a good feeling, the kind he enjoyed. The lecturer had not only talked about how to collect even the smallest amounts of Trace, but how it could be manipulated. Such as, when they had a piece of evidence to place a suspect at a scene, but not the committer of the crime, how that piece of Trace could be used with logic to lead to another piece of evidence to pin the killer for the crime. A piece of evidence they may not even suspect to be there if they didn't think about it correctly. Call him a nerd, but logic was endlessly fascinating to Ryan.

As he milled about the lobby, wondering what he should do with himself until the afternoon lectures he wanted to listen to, he remembered to check his phone. As he pulled it out of his pocket, he saw he had a missed call from Calleigh.

Hitting the redial button swiftly he put the phone to his ear and waited through four rings until she picked up.

"Hello?" her sweet southern voice was a welcome to Ryan. Familiar to, but not just because he knew her, for some other reason as well.

"Hey, Calleigh, you called?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, I did, I was wondering if you'd had any lectures yet."

"I just got done with a Trace lecture, there's two more a victimology and a criminal profiling that I'm doing in the afternoon."

"Well, that sounds interesting. How's Arizona?"

"Warm but not that bad, kinda like Miami, but without the palm trees. Just as confusing too."

Her sweet laughter filled his ear and he joined in briefly. When she became serious again she asked "So, what do you plan on doing with yourself till this afternoon?"

"I have no idea." he said.

"Well, I' d sight see. I'm sure you can find something to keep you occupied. I gotta go, Horatio's trying to get me on the other line. Bye."

She hung up and he flipped his phone shut. Sight seeing did sound good. Maybe he'd learn about the city and find a good place for lunch before heading back for his lectures.

As he left the building and headed for the parking lot, he was grateful for his short sleeves. But he realized that it actually wasn't that hot out. Glancing around at the bustle of the downtown area he was in, he smiled. Putting his keys back in his pocket, he decided he'd walk and let his feet see where they wanted to take him.


End file.
